Somewhere Between Sleepyside and Amsterdam
by Elizabeth Goode
Summary: A hit-and-run car accident might be even more than it seems! College decisions, family ties, and of course, a mystery!
1. Chapter 1

The adrenaline from his scare was draining from his body, and Jim was embarrassed to find himself shaking and cold. He must have been tense, because now his body felt like a wet noodle and it was all he could do to make himself stand up. The ditch he had been forced into by the car was deep and by the time he scrambled out, he was covered in dirt.

_Ouch! Must have scraped my knees ... _

He looked at the torn denim, and then felt a twinge of pain from the palm of his right hand.

_And my hand. Great. Jim the Great Woodsman run down by a car into a ditch. Awesome survival skills, Frayne._

Taking a walk alone in the dark on Glen Road had seemed like a harmless enough activity to help him clear his head. After all, he prided himself on his independence and fearlessness in the outdoors. He just had a lot to think about lately, and had needed some time to himself to think. Juliana and Hans had written to him from Amsterdam, expressing their regret at not having time to get to know him better during their time in Sleepyside. They wanted him to consider coming to Amsterdam to stay with them and attend university there. Part of him wanted to go, wanted to bask in the prospect of getting to know his only living relative, but the vast majority of him felt safe, happy, and rooted in Sleepyside and had no desire to leave. The problem was that he couldn't think of a way to tell Juliana that he didn't want to move to Amsterdam without seeming ungrateful or dismissive of what had to be an enormous lifestyle alteration for her and for Hans.

And now on top of his dilemma, he had managed to get himself half run over by a car.

The idea of walking home was a bit daunting. His head hurt from the impact, and he suddenly felt a bit nauseous.

_Probably a mild concussion. Too bad Brian isn't here. He'd probably get a kick out of watching the symptoms unfold. And, he'd probably run for help and call 911._

As he emerged from the ditch, he sighed heavily and began walking toward home. _This, as Dan would say, "sucks."_

The headlights of an oncoming car were blinding, and Jim shaded his eyes as he squinted into the foggy halo of light. A screech of brakes sent a butterfly flapping wildly in his stomach, as he hoped fervently that it wasn't the driver who had run him off of the road coming back to finish him off.

"Jim?"

The voice was familiar, but the lights were still flooding his dilated pupils with blinding brightness. A dark shape was hurrying toward him.

"Jim, what are you doing out here? Are you all right?"

It was Peter Belden, he realized with relief. Probably on his way home from the bankers' meeting he'd been to all day in Albany.

Mr. Belden placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, his dark eyes full of concern as he took in the boy's torn jeans and bloodied hand.

_Wow, Brian looks a lot like his dad_, Jim thought dizzily.

"What in the world happened to you? You're hurt!"

"Went out for - for a walk, and a car ran me into a ditch. I - I think I'm okay. Could use a ride home, though."

Peter Belden shook his head. "You got hit by a car, son. I'm not sure you didn't hit your head, and you look pretty scratched up. Let's get you to the car, and I'm going to take you to the ER to get checked out. We'll call your parents from there."

Too tired and dazed to protest, Jim let himself be led to the passenger side of the car.

* * *

Inside the car, Peter glanced worriedly at the young man in his passenger seat. Jim was usually such a vibrant, independent young man, and his spacey, somber demeanor was worrisome.

"Hey, I know you're probably hurting, but just in case you've got a concussion, you should probably try to stay alert. Talk to me, kiddo. Did you see the car that hit you? Do you think it was accidental or someone intoxicated?"

Jim thought hard, trying to picture the car. Nothing.

He sighed heavily. "I'm not Trixie - I don't remember anything except headlights and landing in a ditch. She probably would have memorized the license plate in midair before she even landed."

Peter saw the young man's eyes starting to close, and reached over to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't you get too relaxed over there! Concussion, Jim. You've got one."

Jim opened his eyes again. "I'm okay, just trying to remember something. I think the car was weaving around a little bit - I guess that could mean the driver was drinking or distracted ..."

"Good, good! Once we get to the hospital, I'm going to call your parents, and then the police. This is Sleepyside! You can't just go around running teenagers off of the road around here!"

Something about Mr. Belden's outraged-citizen tone of voice reminded Jim of Trixie when she was on a soapbox about helping someone in need or doing some kind of fundraiser for UNICEF. He smiled. _Brian may look like his dad, but Trixie sure sounds like him! _Aloud, he said, "I'm glad you were driving past, Mr. Belden. I wasn't looking forward to walking home!"

Peter shook his head. "I'm just so mad that someone in this town would hit a kid with their car and drive away! I can't even imagine who the hell would -" He cut off, giving Jim an apologetic smile. "I shouldn't have sworn. Sorry about that."

"I've heard worse. Dad can swear at his business partners in three languages. He says it doesn't count if it isn't in English," Jim said with a laugh. "Mother says otherwise."

Peter laughed at that, then grew serious. "What were you doing out on the road alone at this hour? It's after nine o'clock and it's cold outside. Is everything all right at home?"

At that moment, as tired and sore as he was, Jim wished he could melt into the seat and disappear. He knew that it probably looked to Mr. Belden as though he was running away or having some kind of disagreement with the Wheelers, and the thought of Trixie's dad thinking that he was up to no good was enough to make him spill out the truth.

"It wasn't anything bad, I just got a - a letter from Juliana and she and Hans want me to come to Amsterdam and stay with them and to go university there. I want to see her and get to know her better, but - but ..." He trailed off, his throat closing up on him as he feared he was about to burst into tears or something embarrassing.

"But what?" Mr. Belden's tone was gentle, reassuring. It reminded him of his father before he had died, and that was enough in combination with his shocked and concussed state to cause the tears to overflow and run down his face.

Alarmed, Peter fumbled in the cup holder area of the car and found some napkins left over after some Wimpy's carryout, which he passed to Jim, who blew his nose and wiped furiously at his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Belden. I didn't mean to - to get so upset."

If it had been Trixie, Mart, or even Brian hurting like this, Peter would have pulled the car over and hugged them and listened to them. He didn't want to overstep his bounds with someone else's son and he knew Jim well enough to know that the young man would be beating himself up about this loss of control for days anyway. It made him angry to think about the abuse this young man had endured and how it had made him feel ashamed of his own emotions. He settled for speaking the truth in a low, gentle tone of voice.

"You're sixteen years old and you've been through a lot, son. A lot. Losing your parents, suffering with your stepfather, running away, finding a family again - heck, you've dealt with all of the crazy situations my daughter has dragged you into! And, you _did _just get hit by a moving vehicle. I think you're entitled to some emotional release. Don't be embarrassed. I have teenagers of my own. Even Brian needs to vent every now and then."

He saw some of the rigid tension in Jim's shoulders relax, just a little bit. "You were telling me about Juliana wanting you to come to Amsterdam?"

Jim nodded. "She wants to get to know me better, and I want that too, but I'm _happy_ here, in Sleepyside, with the Wheelers, with your family living down the hill ... I have everything I ever wanted _right here_ and she wants me to leave that behind? I _can't_, but I don't know how to tell her that!"

Sleepyside General Hospital loomed in the not-so-far distance as they pulled into town, and Peter felt a wave of relief. He was worried about the concussion and about Jim's scraped hand - it looked like it might have road dirt in it.

"I've wanted to go to college since I was a kid. I've got a scholarship, and education is really important to me, but I can't even imagine moving to a different town in New York State, let alone moving to Amsterdam!" Jim shrugged miserably, "I don't speak Dutch!"

Peter pulled into the ER parking lot and parked. He walked around to the passenger side to help Jim, who protested the supporting arm for a moment before acquiescing when his knees wobbled dangerously.

"Let's get you taken care of. They probably won't keep you overnight, just long enough to make sure your head is all right."

Jim gave him a rueful smile as he steadied himself. "Fortunately, I've always been told that I'm hard-headed. I hope it finally works in my favor."


	2. Chapter 2

Once he had turned Jim over to the doctors and nurses, Peter had called the Wheelers, who were on their way, and Helen to let her know what had happened and that he would not be home until much later. He then called the police to report the hit and run. Sergeant Molinson was on his way to the hospital to take Jim's statement. When a nurse came out of the small office Jim had entered and beckoned to Peter, he followed her to the front desk.

"Are you related to the young man you brought in?"

"No. He's the son of the Wheelers, friends of ours who live up the hill, off of Glen Road. Jim's friends with my kids, so when I saw him out on the road at night by himself, I stopped."

The nurse smiled kindly. "He's doing just fine. The doctor says he has a mild concussion, some road burn on his knees and elbows, and he needed a couple of stitches. When his parents get here, he can be released. Would you like to wait with him for them to arrive?"

Peter nodded. "Of course!"

He followed the nurse into the room, closing the door behind him to preserve what he could of Jim's dignity. The young man sitting on the bed looked impossibly young, clad in a hospital gown. His ripped jeans and shirt lay in a pile on the floor, and his elbows and knees were bandaged.

"Mr. Belden? You stayed? Where are the Wh - my parents?"

Peter didn't miss Jim's slight stumble over his words. It had to be an adjustment for the boy. "On their way right now. I told Matthew to bring you something to wear."

Jim glanced at the bloodstained jeans and shirt and grimaced. "Thank you, sir. For everything."

The sight of the usually confident and outgoing teenager in such a vulnerable state pulled at all of Peter's fatherly instincts. Outrage filled him again. Why, it could have been Brian, Mart, Trixie, or Bobby hit by the car! What kind of a sorry excuse for a human being hit a kid with a car and drove away? The very thought made his blood boil all over again.

He laid a fatherly hand on Jim's shoulder. "You're very welcome. I talked to Sergeant Molinson. He and Spider Webster are on their way to talk to you. I'll stay and answer anything I can."

The police arrived before the Wheelers because the police station was a block away from the hospital, and the Wheelers had to come all the way from Glen Road.

When Spider entered the room, he went to shake Jim's good hand and glanced around the room. "Glad to see you're not hurt too badly, Jim. And you got into a situation all on your own without Trixie, huh?"

At this, Jim managed a weak grin. "Yeah, apparently I can get into a situation all on my own. Who knew?"

Peter moved aside to get out of the way as the two officers asked him questions and wrote down his answers. It was then that he noticed how tense the teenager was as he tried to remember anything he could about the car. Jim prided himself on his skills and intelligence, and he knew that his time with Jones had left him with a tendency toward perfectionism. He had counseled Brian when he needed to vent some of his anger at what had happened to his friend. Knowing that there was someone out there evil enough to hurt a good kid like Jim made Peter angry. He resolved mentally to talk to Matthew and Madeleine about Jim's fears about moving away for college. He wasn't sure the young man would be able to bring it up on his own, and the kid had had enough stress in his life.

Jim's frustration at his own inability to remember every detail of the car that had struck him was evident.

"I just can't remember exactly what it looked like! I'm pretty sure it was a sedan, but ... man, I wish I had a memory like Trixie's!"

At this, Molinson snorted. "Don't be silly, son. That mind of hers gets her into more trouble than it's worth! No offense to you, Peter. You must have your hands full raising that one!"

Peter shook his head with a smile. "She does keep us busy."

At that moment, the Wheelers arrived. Matthew raced to Jim's side and turned his adopted son's face toward the light to inspect the damage. Madeleine rang for the nurse to come and asked her to fetch the doctor.

Satisfied that Jim was not in any immediate danger, Matthew sat down and addressed Peter. "How can I even begin to thank you for seeing him and stopping?"

"No thanks are necessary, Matt. You would do the same for any one of mine."

Matthew nodded. "Of course. Maddie, when is that doctor coming?"

Madeleine stood at the side of Jim's bed and took his hand gently. "On his way, Matthew. The nurse has gone to fetch him." She ran a hand through her son's red hair, avoiding the bandaged area, and then planted a kiss on his forehead. "I just can't believe someone would - would hit you with a car! We're so glad you're safe, Jim."

Jim blushed slightly, embarrassed at the attention, but clearly enjoying it. Peter's heart went out to the boy, and he was glad he was getting and accepting the attention he needed from his new family.

"There's a madman on the roads, gentlemen!" Matthew Wheeler addressed Molinson and Webster. "Keep us in the loop with your investigation. I mean to see to it that whoever did this loses their drivers' license for a good long while!"

* * *

On his way to home to Crabapple Farm, Peter was not even a little bit surprised to see the glow of flashlights in the shrubbery near where he had found Jim earlier. At the sound of his approaching car, the lights quickly winked out. He pulled over and stepped out of the car.

"Trixie!"

A flashlight beam pointed toward him.

"Dad?"

Peter laughed. "I might have known I'd find you here. I take it your mother told you what happened?"

He watched as his blond-haired daughter climbed her way out of the roadside ditch, a sheepish smile on her pretty face. She was wearing torn jeans, a t-shirt, old moccassins, and she had twigs stuck in her curly hair. Peter couldn't bring himself to be angry with her.

"Who else is with you. Honey, I presume?"

Two figures rose out of the shadow, and two more flashlights winked on. It was Honey Wheeler, looking as disheveled as his daughter, and Dan Mangan.

"It's eleven o'clock at night. I'm willing to not rat anyone out, but you're all getting in the car with me. I'm not leaving you out here at a crime scene!"

When Honey and Dan had joined them on the pavement, Peter shook his head. "I might have known I'd find Trixie here, and where there's a Trixie, there's often a Honey. However, I'm surprised to find you out here, Dan. How did they convince you? I thought you were sleeping over to go to that college fair with Mart and Brian in the morning."

Dan shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't let Trixie and Honey go by themselves. I couldn't sleep for Mart's snoring, and Brian is still up reading." He flashed Peter a grin. "And I was just about as curious as the girls - I wanted to see if I could notice any clues before they did!"

"And did you?" Peter asked.

"Maybe. I'm not quite sure ... we only just got here. We haven't found much of anything yet."

There was something about the way Dan had said, "much" that intrigued Peter.

"So ... what have you kids found?"

Honey began babbling happily about a tire skid mark, while Trixie began pulling on his arm to show him something else. Dan's usually solemn face lit up with excitement as he started in about a smell that reminded him of something else.

So it was that Peter Belden, respected banker and father of four, found himself sliding down a roadside ravine at 11 o'clock at night in his good work pants.

Trixie's blond curls quivered and bounced with excitement in the weird light of the flashlights as she tugged on her father's arm, explaining hurriedly, "We found the skid marks by the ditch, and we were pretty sure it was the right spot because they're fresh." She held up her hand, indicating her dirty fingers. "See?"

She continued. "From the size and shape of the tread, Dan was able to tell that the car was most likely a fairly new sedan."

Peter didn't want to think about what kinds of experiences had left Dan with that level of knowledge. From the way the teenager lowered his head at Trixie's proud proclamation, he must have felt embarrassed about it too.

Trixie shined her flashlight at a metallic object in the grass. It was a side mirror from a vehicle. Peter crouched beside it, squinting at it in the limited light.

"This is from an older car - almost as old as Brian's jalopy. And it's nearly the same color as the ground. Trixie, how did you ever spot this?"

His daughter shrugged. "I just ... did. I saw a dark bump and shined my light at it, and there it was."

"Not much escapes the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency," Dan stated proudly. "I kind of want to hide a needle in a haystack and time them."

At this, Peter laughed. "No one touched anything here, did they?"

Honey shook her head. "Of course not, Mr. Belden! We didn't want to contaminate the evidence!" She smiled. "So we now have reason to believe that my brother got hit by an old car with new tires. That might help the police narrow it down, right?"

"Of course it will. Why don't you kids get on back to the car? We can call the police to report your findings when we get back to the farm."

Trixie and Honey scrambled up the hill, still turning theory after theory over as they bounced ideas off of each other and went on excitedly. Dan hung back, clearly waiting to say something.

"Mr. Belden?"

"Yes?"

"That smell ... it was marijuana. I didn't want to say it in front of the girls."

The dark-haired boy was looking down again. It was obvious that he was ashamed of even knowing what it was, let alone what it smelled like. Peter sighed. He was getting to use every last one of the fathering skills he had been practicing for the last seventeen years tonight.

"Dan - that part of your life is past, we all know that. It doesn't mean that you have to be ashamed of any knowledge you have from before you came to Sleepyside. It may surprise you to know that I attended business school at NYU as a much younger man, and was a member of a fraternity at college. I know what marijuana is and what it smells like as well. I appreciate your discretion with Trixie and Honey, but don't be afraid to let your experience be a teacher, not something you hide from."

Peter got the feeling that if Dan could implode into himself like a black hole and disappear, he would. He sighed, making a mental note to talk to Bill Regan about his nephew's insecurities. And, he found himself wondering what kinds of things his own sons had talked about with other people's fathers. He knew that Bobby had confided in Ed Lynch about being bullied at school. Hmm. For that matter, he remembered feeling more comfortable discussing his future plans for finding a job with Helen's uncle than he had with his own father. _Maybe some of it is just natural. Maybe it's easier to hear advice when it isn't from someone with any actual authority over you._


	3. Chapter 3

The Wheelers didn't get to leave the hospital until nearly midnight. The doctor had cautioned Jim that he was probably going to want to spend the day resting, as he was going to hurt a lot worse in the morning. He had planned to go to the college and career fair with Brian, Dan, and Mart, and he hated to give up something so important. In the end, he had finally convinced the Wheelers to allow him to go. Matthew's opinion on the matter cemented just how much he genuinely liked his adoptive family. Matthew had said that if he could manage to get out of bed, get dressed, and ambulate under his own power, then he wouldn't stop him from attending. Jim knew that no matter how rotten he felt the next morning, that he'd had worse, much worse, and worked through it. Being hit by a car was not about to stop James Winthrop Frayne III, not when his education was on the line!

He hadn't counted on how much crap he would feel like the next morning. Granted, he had had worse, but it had been a long time since he had to haul himself out of bed with every muscle on fire. _Come on, Frayne, walk it off! _He made himself get out of bed, shower, get dressed, and walk downstairs for breakfast. Honey was already buttering and jelly-ing his toast for him. It was even orange marmalade, his favorite.

He took the plate from her with a smile. "Thanks, sis."

Honey eyed him studiously. "About the least I could do after you got hit by a car, don't you think? Are you feeling all right?"

Jim felt a wave of gratitude, then a wave of pain as he moved too quickly to reach for the milk. "Ow. I don't suppose you'd be willing to pour me glass of milk, would you? It's ... heavy."

She made a face at him, then giggled. "Of course. I can't believe you're still going to the college thingy after last night!"

He started to shrug and then thought better of it. "Time stops for no man. Admissions offices really, really don't. I want to go to school somewhere good that isn't a million miles away from here."

Her face broke into a grin, and relief was apparent in her expressive hazel eyes. "I'd hug you so hard if you weren't hurt! You can't possibly know how worried I was that - that you were going to go to - to some prestigious academy for boy geniuses somewhere in the heart of New Guinea! I feel like I just got used to having a brother, and all of this college stuff - well, it - it sucks!"

Honey's confession threatened to set loose all of the worries he had himself about leaving, and sent warm little tendrils of happiness through his very being. He chortled out loud at Honey's use of the word, "sucks." He could hear Dan's influence in his sister's vocabulary and it was among the funnier things he'd heard in a good while.

"I have to tell Trixie you want to go to college near here - she was just about beside herself when Brian started talking about the college fair and had fliers from some school in California - " Honey stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide. "Don't tell her I told you that! Oh, gleeps! Trixie would _die _if she knew I told you that!"

Jim was somewhere between ecstatic and just shy of leaping over the moon at the idea that Trixie would miss him that much, but he hastily promised Honey that he would not mention it.

At that moment, their parents entered the dining room. If Matthew Wheeler was surprised that Jim was up and ready to go, he didn't say so. Madeleine hovered a bit, anxious about his head and how he felt. Jim answered honestly that he felt pretty banged up, but more than able to attend. As if on cue, Brian pulled up in the BWG station wagon and tapped the horn. Jim stuffed the last half of his toast into his mouth and excused himself with a wave.

* * *

At Crabapple Farm, Trixie was pacing like a caged tigress. She was absolutely dying to get back to the scene of the incident and do_ something _to figure out what kind of a sorry excuse for a human being would hit Jim with a car, but her mother insisted that she not go, lest she annoy or pester the police. The fact that her brothers and Jim were going to a college fair didn't help. She was beyond worried about what her life would be like without them, worried that if Jim went to college he'd meet some Dot Murray-level vision of perfection and forget all about her. A flush spread across her nose and cheeks. She was always so embarrassed when she caught herself thinking about Jim like that!

"Trixie! Hey, Trixie!"

The blur of excitement that banged right through the screen door without knocking was Honey, and Trixie smiled to herself at how Honey had changed from the pale, shy girl she had been when the Wheelers had first moved into the Manor House.

"Guess what? I just talked to Jim about college and - and the reason he's so determined to go today is that he said he wants to go to school near here! He doesn't want to go to some crazy, far-off place after all!"

Trixie's relief was immense. She stopped pacing and directed Honey to sit down at the kitchen table. She poured two glasses of fresh lemonade and sat down across from her friend.

"Is he okay? I mean, after the car thing ... Dad said he was pretty banged up."

Honey nodded. "He's going to be fine. Mother and Daddy are going to the police station this afternoon to talk to Sergeant Molinson about the investigation." Honey dropped her voice to a scandalized whisper, "Apparently, there's a possibility that _drugs_ were involved! A - a piece of _paraphrenalia _was found at the scene!"

Trixie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I wonder if that's what Dan was embarrassed about last night ..."

"Embarrassed? What do you mean?"

"Last night, when my dad caught us investigating. You and I went back to the car, but Dan hung back to talk to my dad. I think he knew what the smell was but didn't want to say it in front of us. You know how he gets when things remind him of his old life. Remember how he was in New York City?"

"He didn't go to Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School for freshman year, so Dan has no way of knowing that we covered drug education in Health and Safety class," Honey sighed. "We need to have a talk with him. I won't have him getting all protective and weird just because Brian and Jim are off to college soon. It's ingrained in those two, but there's hope for Danny-boy if we catch him while he's still young!"

At that moment, Helen Belden entered the kitchen. Seeing the pitcher of lemonade, she sat down to have a glass herself.

"Honey, it's always nice to see you! How is your brother? I hear he went ahead to the college fair?"

Always tactful, Honey summarized everything the girls had just been discussing in four sentences. "Jim is doing well, Mrs. Belden. Daddy said he could go today if he could get up and get ready under his own power, and he did! Trixie and I were just discussing what Jim told me this morning about wanting to find a school that isn't terribly far away, and then we started wondering about the car incident and how Dan is exhibiting some early symptoms of overprotectiveness we may want to nip in the bud!" Honey flushed. "Drug reference not intended, Mrs. Belden!"

Helen laughed. "Peter told me about Dan smelling a bit of pot smoke last night, and being embarrassed to admit it in front of you girls. I think young Daniel's heart was in the right place, but we've never been the sort of parents to hide things from our children."

Trixie groaned. "Moms and Dad gave me the drugs, boys, and drinking talk right before I turned thirteen. I think they must have covered every single name for marijuana, and every possible awful line a boy might use to get me to act against my better judgment." She mock-shuddered. "Talk about embarrassing!"

Shaking her head, Honey grinned. "I've got you beaten, Trixie. I had to hear about such things from Miss Lefferts!" Honey went into her best Miss Lefferts impression, "Now, my dear. Some dastardly young men will try to kiss you or press advantage should you find yourself unchaparoned. When you return to boarding school in the fall and camp this summer, you will notice some ... er, changes in your classmates. Some boys will have deeper voices. Young ladies will develop a need for ... _ the brassiere_." The way Honey said the word "brassiere" in a hushed, scandalized tone sent both Trixie and her mother into a fit of giggles.

"Oh," Trixie gasped, trying to regain her composure, "I've never even seen Miss Lefferts, and yet I know that if I ever did, I'd know it was her immediately!"

Helen daubed at her eyes with a corner of paper towel, her blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Honey Wheeler! You are a delightfully funny young woman these days!" She stood up at the sound of the clothes dryer buzzing. "Well, laundry is done. Come with me girls, and we'll get everything folded and put away three times as fast!" She leaned closer to the girls, her hand cupped to her mouth as if she was about to tell a secret. "There are several of ... _the brassieres _in that load. We'd best get them out of sight before anyone knows we use them!"


End file.
